


Overflowing Passion, Ever-knowing Emotion

by carpfish



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: A3! NSFW Week, Dirty Talk, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/pseuds/carpfish
Summary: Homare books himself and Hisoka a weekend staycation where he can be as loud as the hell he wants. To make a long story short, turns out itispossible to fuck the poetry out of Arisu.
Relationships: Arisugawa Homare/Mikage Hisoka
Comments: 8
Kudos: 138
Collections: Ass! Addict! Actors! an A3! NSFW Week 2020





	Overflowing Passion, Ever-knowing Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> This smut was sponsored by the patronage of Baphomet and by that I mean Ken.
> 
> Submitting this for NSFW Week Day uh [static noises] even though it's late and doesn't fit any of the prompts, but I have stuff on the way I just had to write this first.
> 
> Also shamelessly inspired by aureatian's [a boy like me knows how to take direction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610532) banging ass juban dirty talk fic. Thanks for reminding me that dialogue in porn is great.

It had taken some time, and far more effort than Hisoka is normally willing to put in, but he’d had to know if it was possible and there was no better time or place to try. The hotel room is an expensive one, not that Hisoka’s the one footing the bill, and neither he nor Homare have work scheduled for the whole weekend. Arisu had called it a “relaxing staycation to rejuvenate the spirit in service of future creative endeavors”; Hisoka thinks of it as something quite different.  
  
To make a long story short, turns out it _is_ possible to fuck the poetry out of Homare. What had started out as devoted paeans to his lover’s eyes and teeth or recited sonnets about desire and passion had petered out to the occasional purple praise by the second time Hisoka had ruined his climax. By the third, he’s much more occupied with moaning Hisoka’s name and begging to let him cum than he is with verse and pentameter.  
  
Now on the cusp of climax for the fourth time, Homare’s experiencing what Hisoka thinks must be the Arisu equivalent of when he comes down after a performance and he’s so tired he can’t think of anything but marshmallows or sleep. Except instead of sweets, his head is filled with Hisoka’s cock instead. Only metaphorically of course- earlier on, Hisoka had considered silencing Homare with a gag or his own dick until he was turned on enough to be less annoying, but that would defeat the purpose of this challenge. Now, Homare is all but choking on his breaths with every deep piston of Hisoka’s cock in him, the brutal pace he sets a testament to many years of well-honed stamina. Never let it be said that Hisoka’s laziness got in the way of completing a real mission.   
  
Arisu's a bit past the point of forming actual words, but he's still noisy regardless of whether he's talking or not. Heavy panting puffs from his lips as his tongue lolls uselessly from his mouth, as if he were begging for something to fill it. Every high keening noise from his throat or pitched gasp rings bounces endlessly off the walls of Hisoka's mind. Maybe his head is a bit filled with Arisu as well. After all, Hisoka's been holding back his orgasm almost as long as Homare has.  
  
An interesting thing that Hisoka has found out from this mission though, is what Arisu does when he can't think of words anymore. Hisoka's fingers wrap around Homare's skinny waist as he leans in, lips hovering just above the tips of Homare's flushed ears. "You're such a whore, Arisu," he hisses, balancing the knife's edge of compliment and insult.  
  
Homare reacts immediately to his words, his body arching under Hisoka despite being held down. "Whore, yes, yes," he moans with such garbled enunciation that his usual self would be appalled. "I'm a whore, your whore, ah, filthy dirty whore, more, more, please more--"  
  
Redundant repetition and simple rhyme is as much as he can manage as he desperately parrots the words back, any filter or understanding of his own speech completely fried by arousal. Hisoka can't help but grin smugly at the lascivious litany spilling from the poet's lips. As obnoxious and noisy as Arisu can be, it’s incredibly hot seeing a man of letters so completely lost for words.  
  
"That's right, Arisu. You're so tight and wet around me, you must love my cock."  
  
"Your cock, I'm so wet, your cock, I love it, love cock, love you, please, please!"  
  
It's such a pain having to talk so much during sex, but it's well worth it seeing Homare squirming so incoherently on his dick. It's a bit like acting in that he's fine while he's still in character, but he’ll probably fall asleep as soon as the performance ends. All the more reason to drag things out just a little bit longer with Arisu.  
  
“You’re so desperate,” Hisoka murmurs, teeth against Homare’s neck. “Begging for me to make you cum.”  
  
“Make me, yes, mm, so desperate, ah, I can’t, come-”  
  
“Cockslut. You’re nothing but a hole, taking dick like you were born for it.”  
  
“I’m, ah, slut, hole, dick, please-”  
  
“You want me to pump you full of my cum?”  
  
“Full, in me, want-”  
  
“Or do you just want to cum yourself?”  
  
 _“Hisoka-kun!”_  
  
Hisoka bites down hard on the shell of Homare’s ear and he screams, the pain nearly tipping him over the edge. If not for the way that Hisoka squeezes the base of his dick and pulls out entirely, depriving him of that last bit of pleasure he needs to reach climax. Homare collapses bonelessly on the bed as his eyes well up with tears and the slightest trace of cum beads at the tip of his straining cock. Hisoka won’t even let him buck his hips into nothing, strong fingers pressing bruises into the curve of his hip bones as he holds him down against the mattress.  
  
It takes a few more minutes of wordless whimpering before Hisoka starts up again. Homare is glassy-eyed with pent up pleasure, body too limp with exhaustion to resist as Hisoka folds him in half, pushes his leg up against his chest. Hisoka’s dick slides into his loose, soaked entrance without the least bit of resistance, and as he begins to move, it tears a ragged sob from Homare’s throat. As pleasure crests in Hisoka once again, he knows won’t be long before Arisu’s loud enough to draw noise complaints again.  
  
This is a poetry recitation that he hopes that Arisu will never get the chance to publish.


End file.
